


reading the signs

by ohirareon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (for lack of a better term), Getting Together, M/M, Promposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9498050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohirareon/pseuds/ohirareon
Summary: It’s trust (and Google Maps) that’s brought Futakuchi and his prom signs outside Ennoshita’s car today.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dicaeopolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/gifts).



> if you don't know about [@endrilshita](http://twitter.com/endrilshita), an ennoshita-themed dril bot run by [ becky](http://twitter.com/dickaeopolis) and i, check that out.
> 
> in particular, these two tweets, the first of which this fic was based off, the second of which is referenced: [ 1](http://twitter.com/endrilshita/status/788484891591585792) & [2](http://twitter.com/endrilshita/status/739200114133078016)
> 
> becky: this one goes out to you, for that skype conversation that led to discussing ennoshita with a twitter, but also for every skype conversation that's happened afterward. <3  
> also, a huge huge huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to [ amber](http://twitter.com/ambyguity_) for betaing. i'm pretty sure you're made of stardust and very good advice. also i love u

Futakuchi knows he should probably be at practice right now, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. It’s a sacrifice for the good of the team -- they’ve all been busting ass to prepare for Spring High, not to mention preparing Koganegawa, which is another trial in itself. They deserve a break, for once.

Of course, Futakuchi’s choice to cancel evening practice has _nothing_ to do with the fact that he borrowed his Mom’s car to get across town and is now loitering in the Karasuno student parking lot, waiting for Ennoshita to finish practice.

To be fair, Futakuchi’s been planning this for a while.

It started with the fact that Ennoshita’s the most interesting person Futakuchi has ever met and then the damning realization that Futakuchi enjoys their late night conversations more than he probably should. Between being asked if he wants to stream a movie at two in the morning and joint-coordinating a practice match for their teams, Futakuchi’s been met with nothing but smashed expectations.

Even now, after months now of late night talks and easy banter, Futakuchi swallows hard when he asks Ennoshita for a picture of his car. He blinks in surprise when his phone buzzes a minute later bearing a picture of a blue-gray sedan, no questions asked. Futakuchi smiles down at his phone with relief before sliding it into his back pocket.

Granted, with friendship, trust usually follows, and it’s trust (and Google Maps) that’s brought him and his prom signs outside Ennoshita’s car today.

Futakuchi knows Karasuno’s going to get out soon -- he had to cut class just to make it over here in time -- so he gets straight to the plan. He feels kind of guilty as he slaps down the packing tape onto Ennoshita’s new paint job, but a confessions is a confession, and Futakuchi’s not going to half ass this. He lays the longest of the signs across the windshield and starts dragging the roll of tape along its border. When that’s done, Futakuchi adds the signs on the side. They overlap the door handles, but that’s unavoidable considering he went all out with his kanji size.

Futakuchi takes a step back to examine his handiwork. Across the body of Ennoshita’s car reads “ **DRIVE AWAY WITH ME INTO THE SUNSET (AND/OR TO PROM)** ” in bold strokes. It’s not the most creative of signs, but it gets the message across. Futakuchi hums and scans over his work again. It's a little rough around the edges -- there are paint drips splattered across the cardboard but it’ll have to do.

It’s then that Karasuno’s final bell rings, and though it’s not particularly loud, Futakuchi still bolts up like someone set a firecracker off under his ass. Futakuchi’s throat dries, his palms starting to sweat as he waits. Okay, fine, he’s nervous, but it’s not everyday that you ask out _Ennoshita Chikara_.

Well, he’d hope not, because Ennoshita would definitely have a boyfriend or something by now, and that’d totally mess up Futakuchi’s whole thing he’s got going on where he texts Ennoshita and smothers himself with his pillow immediately after. That, and he’s hoping that with the amount of banter-flirting that’s been happening between them over the past few months, Futakuchi actually stands a chance.

Point being, Futakuchi’s been reading the signs, and he damn well hopes that Ennoshita will show up soon and read the ones plastered across his car.

He checks his watch. Thirty minutes have passed, long enough that Ennoshita should be getting ready for practice already. Futakuchi leans against the bumper and wonders if he should just go when he sees a figure hauling ass across the school grounds.The person’s running with a purpose, a large bulky schoolbag thumping against their legs with every stride. It can’t be comfortable, but the person doesn’t slow.

It’s Ennoshita. He knows it with a certainty that he can’t explain beyond a gut feeling.

 _He’s coming this way_ , Futakuchi realizes and perks up. He unfolds himself from his seat on the front bumper before wiping his clammy palms on his pants. As the figure gets closer, his suspicions are verified; he knew he recognized that side part.

“Futakuchi? What are you doing here?” Ennoshita pants out when he finally makes it to his car. “Ah, nevermind -- I’m sorry but I can’t stop and talk. I left my clean gym clothes in my car, and I need to-” He double takes at the cardboard in front of him. “Well, this complicates things,” Ennoshita announces, staring at his car a little longer.

That’s not the response Futakuchi was looking for, but he can work with it. Futakuchi’s lips pull into a tight smile as he leans against the side-view mirror.  “Have you tried reading the signs…?” he suggests and taps the taped border.

Sure, he gets that there might be a slight shock factor in seeing a bunch of posters plastered across one’s car, or whatever, but it’s not _that_ incredible as far as gestures go.

It’s just a few plain signs that have a possibly _life-changing_ message on them that Ennoshita _still isn’t reacting to_.

“Oh, I _read_ the signs -- I could see them way back there when I was running. I just really need to get my gym clothes, and the signs are blocking both my doors.” His voice is casual as he starts picking at the edge of the tape. “I could use some help,” he says and, _well_ , Futakuchi can’t really say no to that.

Futakuchi can’t really say much of _anything_ right now actually, because once again, Ennoshita Chikara’s rendered him speechless. That isn’t really a big deal for people like Aone, but for Futakuchi “Big mouth” Kenji (as coined by Pantalons, that bastard) that’s a pretty impressive feat. Ennoshita just has that sorta effect on him. It’s embarrassing, really, but Futakuchi’s not one to avoid the curveballs Ennoshita likes to throw his way.  
  
If anything, Futakuchi runs in front of Ennoshita’s curveballs yelling, “Please hit me!”  
  
The thing is, Ennoshita is so wonderfully wry and ahead of the game that Futakuchi can’t help but go along with him, just to see where Ennoshita will take things next. Futakuchi admittedly likes to fuck with people, but Ennoshita’s sleepy brand of dismantling the establishment is on another level.

Futakuchi thinks back to last night. Between their duties as captains and students, meeting up is always a challenge. The distance between them doesn’t help either. Skype calling had become a welcome alternative to the tedious drive across town. Plus, Futakuchi isn’t one to turn down conversation with Ennoshita, whether it’s about volleyball, homework, or film trivia.

“Hey, what’s up,” Futakuchi had asked during their nightly call as he’d slid into his seat.

“Mm, just working on some homework,” Ennoshita had replied before sweeping his books off to the side. Futakuchi had grinned fondly -- It’s Ennoshita’s quiet consideration that turns Futakuchi’s heart into mush. “How has your day been, by the way?”

“Alright, I guess.” Futakuchi had shrugged. “I mean, Koganegawa nailed a serve at my head which _definitely_ felt like karma, but he didn’t fuck up his setting as much today. Besides that, things were normal, and my math test went well.”

“Oh that’s good,” hummed Ennoshita, “about the math test, not about the brain damage, that is. I haven’t been served in the head before, but I think that might put someone on my shit list.”

Futakuchi’s mouth had dropped open in awe. “You have a shit list?” he asked incredulously.

“I mean, yeah. I can show it to you if you want?” he offered.

“Hell yeah,” Futakuchi had buzzed, leaning forward in his seat. “I wanna see which people have pissed off the ever-indifferent Ennoshita Chikara.” Futakuchi knew he had a tendency to gossip, but this was a scoop that anyone would be hard-pressed to ignore.  
  
“Alright, one second,” Ennoshita had put up a finger as he grabbed his phone and typed in his password. He’d clicked on an app and scrolled for a while. “Ah,” Ennoshita mumbled and held out his phone to the webcam for Futakuchi to see. “Can you read that?”

Through the low-quality footage, Futakuchi made out the chunk of text in Ennoshita’s note app. It’s actually titled “Shit List;” bless Ennoshita’s heart, or lack thereof in this case. His eyes eagerly hopped to the next line. The top of the list read: “Futakuchi Kenji,” followed by  “‘The Guess Monster,’ Kuroo, & ‘Tsukki’”.

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” breathed Futakuchi. Earlier, when they had started the call, Futakuchi mentioned that Ennoshita looked more tired than usual, and he had explained that he had been at practice late the day before, talking Yamaguchi through strategies using his serves. And now, Ennoshita, the same person who makes Futakuchi want to be a better captain himself, revealed that he had a shit list and that Futakuchi is at the very top.

He wasn’t sure what it said about him that a shit list, of all things, was making him short of breath. He just hoped that his webcam didn’t pick up the flush on his cheeks.

Futakuchi placed a hand over his heart and looked Ennoshita right in the eyes with as much conviction as he could muster. With full sincerity, Futakuchi told him, “I am honored to be your number one.”

“Well,” Ennoshita shrugged with a straight face on the verge of collapse. Even though the sunlight had faded from his room by now, Futakuchi could still pick up the light dancing behind his eyes. “The list tells it like it is.”

Last night, the list had told things as they were: that even after all this time, Ennoshita still continues to surprise him with his deadpan drags. It’s possible Futakuchi might have developed a masochistic streak (but Ennoshita is also a good person, so maybe not).

With shit list in mind, Futakuchi tells his pride to keep itself in check. There’s a whole world of snark underneath Ennoshita’s sleepy eyes, especially now that they’re close enough to rib each other without restraint.

Frustrated, Futakuchi throws himself into the task of peeling away his wonderful tape job. He’s gonna be the best fucking tape-peeler Ennoshita has ever seen. He’s gonna beat Ennoshita at his own game and then -- if things go well -- maybe they’ll make out in Ennoshita’s sedan.

“It’s not even that I wasn’t prepared for today, it’s that I had to talk to sensei after class and then forgot my things were here after I ran to the club room. And _then_  I misplaced my keys.“ Ennoshita peels off a long length of tape and sets the freed poster on the hood of the car. “Talk about bad luck.”  
  
Ennoshita stops to dig out his keys from his pocket and unlocks his car. He bends down across the passenger seat (and Futakuchi _definitely_  doesn’t glance at his ass to boost his morale) to reach his sports bag sitting primly in the driver’s seat. With a quiet huff, he snags it and hauls the bag over his shoulder.  
  
“Well, there you go,” says Futakuchi and pats Ennoshita’s shoulders where his bag sits. “All set for practice.” There’s no point in stopping Ennoshita from practice -- he’ll go if he wants to, regardless of Futakuchi.

“There I go,” Ennoshita affirms and locks his car back up. “Well, I really need to go to practice now, so, bye,” he says and sets off back across the parking lot.

Futakuchi stares after him. He’s alright with pretending things never happened. He likes to pretend that those blackmail pictures Pantalons has on him don’t exist, along with all of first year. However, while each of those are both very bad things, Ennoshita Chikara is not someone he’d like to block out from memory, and like _hell_ Futakuchi went through all of this work and pining to be brushed off.

Futakuchi’s not willing to let this chance go to waste, so he plants his feet and yells, “Can I at least get an answer? Or _something_?”

Ennoshita turns his head as he jogs towards the gym. “My suit’s black and white, and don’t waste money on flowers!” Ennoshita hollers, matter-of-fact, but Futakuchi swears he can hear the grin in his voice.

Futakuchi shakes his head. He should’ve known Ennoshita would chose the “or something” option.

* * *

Futakuchi fumbles with the doorbell, but it still rings, the door swinging open fast enough that he can safely guess Ennoshita was waiting by the door.

“Hey,” Ennoshita says, breathless, and _god_ , Futakuchi’s stomach does a flip.

“Hi.” Futakuchi grins and sticks out the bouquet of cream tulips. “I brought you flowers.”

**Author's Note:**

> there's not even prom in japan smh
> 
> -
> 
> talk to me on [ twitter](http://twitter.com/ohirareon) / [ tumblr ](http://ohirareon.tumblr.com)


End file.
